The ruby that slipped through his fingers
by Cortesimoe
Summary: Snape reflects upon his feelings for a certain red-head, how it could and should have been. What will be the result of his musings? How will she react?


**The ruby that slipped through his fingers**

There she sat, so beautiful with her long, red hair floating in the wind, caressing her cheek as it danced in the wind, tickling her. Oh! how he longed to caress that hair! Let it play between his fingers, feel the softness. Her skin... her beautiful, pale skin. As soft and smooth as lavender oil. Could he only hold her in his arms, smell her skin, if only for a little. That was all he asked. That was not too much, was it? For her to be his, for her to love him, _him_, and no one else! Oh, if she only knew what he felt for her. How very different everything would have been if only she had known. But she could never know. Not now – it was too late. He had spilled his chances long ago, and this little treasure, this ruby, had slipped through his fingers like a handful of sand – he had not been able to catch any of the tiny fragments, and was now forced to watch someone else pick up the chattered pieces and put them back together. He could not stand it. He wanted to scream, scream out loud! Tell him to keep his hands off of her, she belonged to him, she should be his! But no, never could he do that. It was all too late.

He wanted to curse the tree they were sitting under, make it fall over, call upon the lightning to split it in half, right down the middle to where they sat. But he had to restrain himself. She was sitting there, and the last thing in the world he wanted was for her to get hurt. She was too precious to him.

With a weak sigh he turned his gaze away, and put all his might into focusing on the task at hand. The potion was an intricate one, and required all his concentration. He needed to have worked out all details, everything about it before he started brewing it – he would fail if he staggered only a little. He knew that few of the other students were aware of this – it was what made him top of the class. At least he had that.

The days flew by quickly, and every single one of them more busy than the previous one. Still, that did not prevent him from seeing those two together, almost every single day. It pained him, oh! how it pained him! It felt like he was stabbed in the heart with a two inched dagger again and again, over and over. And it made him grow bitter. Made him snap at every person who dared speaking to him. Especially the Gryffindors or the Hufflepuffs, but people in general, really. Everything they said sounded stupid and annoying in his ears, as if no one had a clue. As if everyone was out to get him, annoyed him on purpose, tried their best to make him snap. Damn, he needed some cold water in his face!

Everything could have gone quite smoothly, it all could have passed in peaceful silence, if it had not been for that, that they never seemed to be able to leave him alone. When they passed him in the hallways, or outside, or even in the classroom when the teacher was not looking; they always had to call him names or hex him or something else – anything, as long as it humiliated him. He could have let it pass, he would not have cared, had it not been that it was _her_ boyfriend who was the leader. _Her_ boyfriend who dragged him down in the mud and stepped on him. To him, it felt like it was all to show that he was the one who had her – that he had won, and _he_ had lost. That was what really ticked him off.

They had always been friends, had they not? Him and her. Since before they started Hogwarts, since the day in her backyard. He had told her so much about his world, their world, things she could not possibly have known beforehand, things he thought she ought to know, things special for the magical world. They had shared so much. And he loved her. He had always loved her, even though he had not, perhaps, showed it. He knew she did not share the feelings. She had never felt like that for him. To her they had only been friends, he knew that.

It was late in the evening, a Saturday in May. He was sitting by the lake, watching the surface, enjoying the silentness, the loneliness. Earlier in the day he had had one hell of a row with that brat and his gang, curses and hexes flying all around. He was exhausted. It was not a row he had wanted to have at all – he had wanted a quiet day so he could study for his upcoming exams. But they had wanted it differently. So now he sat here, thinking, hiding away as best as he could, not wanting to be interrupted by any living, or dead, soul what so ever. The soft breeze dancing on his cheeks reminded him so much of her, how the wind caressed her cheeks. The thought made him gloomy.

The sound of slow footsteps over the wet grass made him start, and he sighed heavily – what on earth could the reason be for interrupting him here, at this hour? He decided to pretend not to notice the person's presence, and hoped the figure would take the hint and go away. He had no such luck, however. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of dark red hair as she seated herself beside him, crossing her legs. For a few minutes they sat here in utter silence, merely gazing out over the still water. Minutes filled with tense atmosphere. He held his tongue – he had no desire to speak. In the end it was she who broke the silence.

"I know you didn't want to have that fight today."

"Do you now."

"Yes, I do! I could see it on your whole body. I know you, Severus, you know I do." Slowly, she turned her head and looked at him, a soft glance in her eyes, almost sad.

"If you say so." He refused to meet her eyes, just kept staring right ahead, without actually looking at anything.

"Oh, come on, don't be like that. I've told him off, I told him it was immature and childish to behave like that."

His gaze hardened, he clenched his fists, and he could feel his whole body tense in a second. "Well, you shouldn't have," he said acidly. "I can fight my own battles, I don't need you to babysit me." He knew he hurt her with his words, but he could not help it.

"Please, Severus, don't be like that. I only try to help."

"And I don't want your help!" Suddenly he was on his feet, staring her down, his teeth almost gritted. "I have never asked for it. Find yourself another pet."

"Listen," she said standing. Her eyes were sad. "I know you have feelings for me." She bit her lip, her words were nervous. "I really like you, but my heart belongs to James. I'm sorry."

"You are mistaken," he said darkly.

"I still want us to be friends!"

"No. You've gotten it all wrong. I don't have, nor have I ever had, any kind of feelings towards you. You're a fool to even think the thought. And I'm not your friend. Leave me alone." His words were harsh, his eyes cold as steel, his attitude the one of a bully. He saw the tears in her eyes, big, wet tears, together with a confused and hurt expression. Her lip trembled, her hands were clenched firmly together, fingers entwined. She stood still as a rock.

"Severus?" she whispered.

Without a reply he turned on his heal and marched away, back up towards the castle. He walked fast, hoping she would not catch up to him. He knew she would not. He had left her by the lake, the wind blowing her hair all round her, hot tears streaming down her cheeks, not at all sure what had just happened.


End file.
